


We Shall Come  Home

by MusingsOnBuckyBarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusingsOnBuckyBarnes/pseuds/MusingsOnBuckyBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a solo mission during WW2, Bucky reunites with the Howlies and Steve. Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Shall Come  Home

**Author's Note:**

> I never know what tags to use… 
> 
> I felt like writing a little slice of WW2 for Bucky, and to make it so that it can be read as either Steve/Bucky or deep friendship between them, whichever way the reader wants to see it.
> 
> Characters: Bucky, Dugan, Steve, original characters, cameos from the other Howlies.

 

xXx

 

“You should keep a diary like us, Bucky!” His sister Becca had told him that, years ago.

 

He had replied, “Sweetheart, we bad boys don’t have the time. But if I did, it’d be a _journal_.”

 

Cue eye rolling from all of his sisters and also from Steve, who was sitting there sketching and grinning.

 

If Bucky _was_ the sort of guy to keep such a record, he knew that his latest entry would go something like this:

 

**_[Day and month censored] 1944_**

**_[Location censored]_ **

****

**_Solo mission, requiring my sniper skills. The announcement of which led to a very unhappy Steve. Of course. He tried to insist that we_ all _go._**

****

**_Colonel Phillips won. I was dropped behind enemy lines and successfully carried out the mission._ **

****

**_It was the ‘getting back to base’ part where things went haywire._ **

****

**_My flight home failed to arrive. Forced to hide out for a day in woodland swarming with HYDRA goons. Then I was making my way very carefully towards the back-up pick up point when I came across some British soldiers who had just been captured by HYDRA._ **

****

**_Missed my second ride home due to rescuing them and got a shrapnel wound to my left calf in the process._ **

****

**_Current status: With the Brits, and relatively safe, as long as their own flight gets here before any more HYDRA soldiers show up._ **

 

Bucky was pulled back to the present by the British medic coming over to examine his leg.

 

“It’s a clean wound,” the medic reported after retrieving the shrapnel and stitching him up. “It didn’t get the artery. Don’t put much weight on that leg while it heals, and it’ll be as good as new.”

 

 _Good, because Steve will have enough to yell about as is_ , Bucky thought. The rest of the Howlies would probably be in a queue behind their leader. _They must be worried out of their minds by now…_

 

Bucky’s new friends were relieved to hear that he wasn’t badly injured; the main worry was that their own captain had some serious wounds. Their transportation _did_ arrive, though it would have been too late if it hadn’t been for Bucky. The Brits took him back to their base, with those not tending to Captain Parker instead using the time to question their rescuer. Private Wilson said, “Bucky Barnes? THE Bucky Barnes? But in the Captain America comics you’re a kid. Why do they draw you so differently?”

 

Bucky considered tucking into some K rations instead of responding to that. He settled for: “Clearly I’m far too handsome for them to capture on the page.”

 

Lieutenant Fitzwilliam was the most senior officer at the moment who wasn’t badly injured, so he was taking his role very seriously, apart from a quick laugh at Bucky’s reply. The Lieutenant said, “Sorry we made you miss your ride. But thank you too! I’ve just been told that there’s radio silence at the moment, so we can’t contact your base. But we will do our best to get you back there as soon as possible.”

 

Hopefully Steve and the Howlies were still there, and not off pulling the woods apart looking for him, or off on another mission…

 

At the British base, Bucky sat on a bed in the infirmary. Most of the men he had helped were there too, either getting their own injuries treated or providing moral support for their friends, apart from Lieutenant Fitzwilliam, who had gone to report to Colonel Windsor, since Captain Parker had to go into surgery.

 

Private Wilson had managed to get through the ordeal without anything more serious than scratches and bruised knuckles from punching HYDRA soldiers, which he was busy assuring Bucky would not hinder him in any way from lifting a pint in his honour.

 

When it came time for Bucky’s wound to be checked and re-bandaged, it looked all right, better than a few hours beforehand. For a minute Bucky felt uneasy. Was it healing _too_ quickly? If so, that could mean things that he really did not want to think about in regard to his POW experiences in Zola’s lab...And at the moment he couldn’t ask the field medic what he thought about the injury, as he had gone off elsewhere in the infirmary.

 

Then Bucky made himself stop dwelling on his leg and focus on trying to work out how he could reunite with Steve and the Howlies as soon as possible.

 

Lieutenant Fitzwilliam arrived back quicker than expected. Tucked in the crook of his arm was a very fancy walking stick. First, he asked if there was any news about how Parker’s surgery was going.

 

“No word yet,” Private Wilson replied.

 

Fitzwilliam looked worried for a few seconds then that British stiff upper lip exerted itself. He presented the walking stick to Bucky with a flourish.

 

The wood was polished to perfection, with a brass top that depicted a fox curled up with its tail wrapped around its body, beautifully wrought.

 

_Oh, Steve would love to draw this._

 

The Lieutenant announced, “Colonel Windsor said for me to present this to you with his compliments.”

 

Wilson whistled. “Is that his, from walks around his country estate, or did he appropriate it over here?” In other words: had it been looted it from the enemy? Such activity was rife in the army, with the officials taking the cream of the crop.

 

“Probably from that raid a few days ago where we didn’t get to see all of the spoils,” Fitzwilliam surmised. “Otherwise we would have noticed him with it before. It’s too beautiful to hide away. What’s the verdict about your leg, Barnes?”

 

“It’s fine. The doctor said that I don’t have to stay in the infirmary. I’m eager to get back to my base as soon as possible. Did the Colonel say when that might be, or when a message can be got through to them?”

 

Private Wilson complained, “Give us a chance to at least buy you that thank you drink first!”

 

Fitzwilliam smiled. “We can facilitate a reunion even sooner than expected, Sergeant. The Colonel wanted to be sure that you are with the Howling Commandos, led by the one and only Captain America. When I assured him that you are indeed that Bucky Barnes – just a more senior version than propaganda would lead one to believe – he told me that Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos are in this very camp.”

 

Bucky immediately jumped up – _Ouch…_ – then was glad to have the walking stick. “What? Where?”

 

“They arrived a few hours ago, getting ready to head out from here to look for you. They don’t know you’re here. The Colonel didn’t want to offer your friends any false hope if it wasn’t you, so they have not been informed yet.”

 

“Where are they?”

 

“I’ll take you to them now.”

 

xXx

 

Even with the walking stick and even though Bucky wasn’t that badly hurt, limping along was a bit of an effort.

 

Fitzwilliam led him between the tents, having to keep slowing down his naturally fast pace.

 

“Now that Captain America’s mission is null and void, you and he can join the Colonel for dinner tonight.  He will be expecting you.” He chatted on about the time and what sort of food they could expect.

 

“Sounds good.” A decent meal and the chance to clean up properly beforehand would be bliss.

 

Suddenly Bucky spotted a man he would know anywhere. “There’s Dugan over there!” he said in delight.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, that’s definitely his bowler hat. And his build.”

 

Fitzwilliam stared. “My word, he’s built like a national monument! The comics really weren’t exaggerating.”

 

“He used to be a circus strongman. Okay, you don’t have to take me any further. Thanks for the ride, Lieutenant; I really appreciate it.”

 

“It was the least we could do.” Fitzwilliam didn’t leave his side yet though, probably being diligent and waiting for Dugan to look up.

 

Dum-Dum hadn’t seen them, probably too distracted (probably about Bucky himself). Which wasn’t a good thing during wartime, even if it was in the middle of an Allied camp…

 

To his relief, his friend paused near the side of a tent and pulled a flask out of one of his pockets. As he went to have a swig, Dugan looked around and spotted Bucky, who waved. Dugan blinked and stared.

 

The look on his friend’s face was: _‘Am I really seeing what I’m seeing, or is it wishful thinking?’_

 

The Lieutenant patted Bucky on the shoulder, careful not to jostle him. “I’ll come and get you and Captain Rogers for dinner.”

 

“Thanks. See you then.”

 

This interaction provided proof to Dugan that he wasn’t seeing a ghost or hallucination. It still made him drop the open flask though.

 

“Dugan, you dum dum – what a waste of good whiskey!” Bucky cried out. He heard Fitzwilliam laugh as he departed.

 

Bucky tried to close the gap while also trying not to trip on a tent peg.

 

Then Dugan rushed forwards with a chuckle that mixed delight and relief, and embraced him, lifting Bucky clear off the ground, gently squeezing the life out of him for a few seconds. Dum Dum then carefully set him down and looked him over. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thank God. We’ve been frantic. Cap’s chafing at the bit, wanting to leave and look for you. He’s been going over and over the maps. I just needed to get out of there for ten minutes to get some air, and here you are! I gather since you’re not on crutches that it isn’t too bad?”

 

“Nothing major.”

 

Dugan then got a closer look at the fancy walking stick and whistled. “Did you end up in some fine company or did you steal that off a HYDRA officer?”

 

“Fine company. Though this _may_ have been appropriated from the enemy. I’ll get more information about that tonight.”

 

“I’ll ask you what happened when we’re with the others, so you can tell us all at the same time, then get some rest.”

 

Bucky resisted rolling his eyes. Dum Dum tended to be like a protective big brother towards him and wasn’t going to change that anytime soon.  He watched as the corporal retrieved his flask.

 

“Any whiskey left?” Bucky asked.

 

Dugan shook it. “A little. Perhaps a swallow. Why, do you want it?”

 

“Not at the moment.”

 

“Good, because we may have to use it to revive Cap after he sees you.” He tucked the flask away. “Have you got a good hold on that stick?”

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

Without any further warning, Dugan picked Bucky up and hoisted him over his broad left shoulder.

 

“You idiot, put me down!”

 

“I will when we get to the others.”

 

Bucky wriggled in protest. “I can _walk_.”

 

“You can hobble. It’ll take all day. And I’m assuming you want this reunion as soon as possible.” Dugan started striding along. “Cap and the others were going over maps of the area you were in and what intel we could find.”

 

Bucky hit his friend on the back, which resulted in a whack to his own ass in response.

 

“Ow! Dum-Dum, cut it out. I’m not a dame in one of your old circus acts.”

 

“That’s right – you’re much cuter than they were. Now shut it, kid, and enjoy the ride. Or I’ll carry you bridal style instead. That’ll look really pretty.”

 

Bucky had no choice but to capitulate. He hastily tucked the walking stick in against his friend’s back so that it wouldn’t hit any person in passing. Sheer stubbornness and annoyance made him threaten: “I’m gonna whack you with this.”

 

“If you want me to turn it into firewood or matchsticks, go right ahead.”

 

Bucky knew that was not an empty threat. He also knew he could try ordering his friend to put him down, but that Dum Dum would ignore it. So it wasn’t worth wasting his breath.

 

A concession Dugan did make was to shift him so that he was in a fireman’s carry instead, while making sure that he wasn’t jostling or putting pressure on the wound. That hold was a bit less ‘damsel in distress’. But it also meant that Dugan could grab hold of the walking stick if he wanted to. And he was whistling…

 

People were staring. Bucky wasn’t sure whether to hide his face in embarrassment or to brazen it out. He tried to wave casually back.

 

Now people would talk about him and Dum-Dum. Well, that might make a change to him and Steve.

 

“That’s the tent – straight ahead,” Dugan said.

 

Bucky just had time to see that its flaps were closed, then he heard Morita’s voice coming from nearby. “Dum-Dum, what on Earth are you doing?”

 

The Corporal slowed down and did a theatrical turn. Morita and Monty were standing there, looking at them in puzzlement, probably also having been on a small break. With the way Steve could get, Bucky didn’t blame them. Just as long as Gabe and Dernier were there to prevent Steve from haring off on his own…

 

Both men went through the same surprise-to-celebration reactions when they realised who Dugan was carrying.

 

“I thought I recognised that bottom!” Monty said.

 

“Ha ha. Okay, we’re here, now put me down,” Bucky said.

 

Dugan ignored him and went right up to the tent. While Monty and Morita gave Bucky quick ‘just checking if you’re real and glad to have you back’ slaps to the arm with accompanying grins, Dugan called out: “Hey, Captain, there’s a special delivery here for you – where do you want it?”

 

Bucky heard Steve’s tired, confused, “What?” then Dugan nodded at Morita and Monty, who hurried to sweep back the tent flaps. Dugan surged forwards, somehow twisting and sliding sideways to get himself and his horizontal burden into the tent without getting them caught in the doorway.

 

Dugan halted and proceeded to channel some inner ballerina. He lifted Bucky up off his shoulders by the hips, managed to twirl him in mid-air so he was facing the right way (i.e. Steve-ward), then set him down as gently as if he were made of spun glass, with nary a jostle to his ankle.

 

“One James Buchanan Barnes, in almost pristine condition.”

 

After this announcement, Dugan kept his hands steadying Bucky from behind, especially when he tried to set the walking stick down. Bucky only vaguely noticed that. He was too busy gazing at Steve, who was sitting at a small table with maps and documents spread over it, with Dernier and Gabe nearby. Steve’s eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping.

 

The surprise. The ‘am I really seeing him?’ Then the realisation and the relief and joy. Dernier and Gabe looked like they wanted to move forward to greet him, but held back to let Steve go first, which was just as well for their own safety. The second that Steve realised for sure that this was real, he shot forward like a race horse out of the starting gate, up-turning the table and at least one chair.

 

Bucky was then on the receiving end of a ‘Steve Rogers Smother’. It made Dugan’s hug feel like an amateur effort.

 

The walking stick fell to the ground. Gabe retrieved it, but there was no danger of Bucky falling. Just the danger of him being crushed in the embrace. He was hugging back fiercely too.

 

“I’m all right. I’m all right! You’re the one who looks like he’s gonna collapse!” Bucky proclaimed into Steve’s shoulder. It came out very muffled.

 

“I am NEVER letting them give you a solo assignment again!”

 

“I did manage to get back without needing rescuing,” Bucky pointed out.

 

“You’re injured though.”

 

“Not badly.” Bucky wanted to distract him with the design on the walking stick but there was not going to be much chance of that just yet.

 

When the iron grip finally loosened, it was hard to look Steve in the face, at the naked relief there.

 

Steve said, “Come on, Buck, sit down.” He anxiously looked him over, for any other injuries.

 

“So what now?” Morita asked as Bucky sat while Steve hovered and fussed. “There’s no need for the mission anymore.”

 

Their captain said, “As soon as I’m allowed, I’ll contact Phillips and see if he wants us to go back to base or elsewhere. We’ll probably have to stay here overnight now, so I’ll find out where we can bunk. Now Bucky, what the hell happened?”

 

Bucky explained about it all, then ended with the dinner invitation. The guys were almost as bad as Steve, with Dernier protesting in a torrent of French.

 

Dernier had been learning English and the rest of them had been learning French from him and Gabe. But sometimes Dernier got so impassioned that he lapsed into very, very fast French that only Gabe could keep up with. This was one of those times.

 

Gabe said, “He doesn’t think we should let Bucky out of our collective sight again so soon, even for the length of a dinner.”

 

“Though at least Cap will be with him,” Morita pointed out. “Dugan, let’s have some of your whiskey to celebrate a safe return.”

 

“Ah, well…”

 

xXx

 

Dinner with the colonel was very pleasant and they were told that Captain Parker was doing well.

 

Afterwards, Steve insisted on Bucky having an early night, taking him back to the tent where they had reunited. He had arranged for two beds to be brought in. With a full stomach and feeling sleepy, Bucky didn’t protest much. The other Howlies had been assigned to a nearby tent, though they were probably not in it yet, busy socialising since they had an unexpected evening off. They would all head back ‘home’ to base tomorrow.

 

xXx

 

Bucky woke up to find out several hours had passed, that it looked like Steve had actually tucked him in. Speaking of Steve, he was sitting not far away, sketching. The walking stick was propped up near Bucky’s bed, in easy reach, the top glinting in the lamplight.

 

Steve looked up when Bucky moved. “Hey, how are you feeling? Do you want some water?”

 

“I’m fine. Are you sketching the fox on the walking stick?”

 

“No. You.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Put this caption on it: _Dear Diary, I bring Steve fresh subject matter and yet he sketches me instead. He’s still an idiot._ ”

 

Steve smiled. “I never get tired of drawing you, Buck.”

 

“Underline the _He’s still an idiot._ ” They looked at each other with amusement and relief. “Get some sleep, Steve. I know you wouldn’t have got much, even from the moment I set off on the mission.”

 

“I’ll just finish this first.”

 

They were back together. For the moment they were safe. Bucky could almost imagine they were in Brooklyn.

 

He smiled and let the rhythmic, familiar sound of Steve’s pencil dancing across the page lull him back to sleep.

 

xXx

 

The End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Laurie and Fifi for the betaing!


End file.
